It was the first time I had felt another man respect me, as a man.

Ben’s tiny, pure body lay below me as I sunk into his hairless arms.

It was this feeling of respect that broke the tension in the air. On our third date we entwined, under the summer evening sun and the soothing waves of Tucker Carlson’s morose voice, forever thrown into the moment.

“Did you know, that 13% -“

Ben Shapiro said shakily as I slowly started picking up speed and depth-

“Of my sexual life has been spent with you? That’s more than my own wife. She’s a doctor, by the way.”

I sighed with relief.

“It’s my first time with a man, much less a black guy.”

I let that settle in the air for a bit before I continued pounding.

Like a semi truck

picking up speed,

we moved madly down the highway of love.

Before long, I was collapsed on top of Ben, exhausted from our deed.

“Thank you, Hussein.”

Even after we had sex, he refuses to call me by my first or last name.

“I told you, it’s Barack.”

Ben didn’t reply.

He lay on his back, like I’d imagine a soldier would sleep in a Barracks, and his eyes were glassy with tears as they scanned the pristine ceiling.

“This is the first and last time we’ll do it here, you know.” I exhaled with melancholy breath. “In my office, you know. Inauguration is soon, and I don’t think we can squeeze another-“

“No. I don’t care if we do it in the Oval Office.” Ben’s eyed sharpened from the ceiling and met my own.

“As long as it’s with you, I don’t care about anything in the world.”

It echoed solid through the hollow White House, and for the first time since Joe Biden I collapsed from my knees as I rose from the Office couch.

I knew I was a good man. But it always felt hollow when I couldn’t help those who needed it. Ben has been my opponent, no, *is* my opponent, to everything I consider good in this world.

How can I hold my principles for justice and for love at the same time?

Maybe I’ll make it work.

“Me too.”